Oyster Tea
by Lady Doppelganger
Summary: Alice is part of a ring of oysters smuggled illegally into Wonderland. Hatter is a tea runner. What happens when he meets her and buys her? Why, it's a threat to the whole House of Cards. What else? Tentative first attempt. EU storyline. Hatter/Alice. T for safety.
1. Chapter 1

Hello, dear readers. This is my first ever attempt at writing fanfiction, so any and all advice/critcism/chocolate will be welcomed with open arms. :) If there is enough interest, this is slated to be a long multi-chapter fic, since I adore this pairing. Thoughts?

Chapter One

Hatter did not like Suits. Not one little bit. Especially not when they forced him to use an alternate route on his deliveries. For chaps with such zealous commitment, they had horrible timing. Did they really expect to catch tea runners in the middle of the day? Idiots. But idiots or not, it was because of them that he was taking the long way downcity from the top of the block where his tea shop sat, hundreds of feet above the lake.

Ropes creaked as he cranked the rusty shaft of the old pulley elevator. It wasn't very well known, hidden as it was in the middle of the catacomb hallways of an abandoned hospital. The shaft plummeted down, all the way to the canal levels. It was a long ride, though, and he planned on getting off as soon as he was low enough to be clear of the Suits. The damp air tickled his throat, and he coughed violently, throwing a few curses at the patrols for the sake of the thing. No alternative, though. He had to get down there, and he couldn't afford to get caught with this freight on him. He used his free hand to finger the bottles stuffed in his coat and hat, counting them and checking their lids to pass the time.

His tea shop was reputable, of course, selling only those beverages sanctioned by the House of Cards, paying all the necessary taxes, and so forth. But that was just a small piece of the business. Most of his trading went on in the back rooms of the shop, with those who knew how to ask and what to ask for. He sold contraband teas – those taken from oysters kept by private owners or tea rings. It was illegal to drain an oyster for any purpose. Only teas from the palace were sanctioned. But that made very little difference, as the Suits were notoriously incompetent, and as long as the Cards weren't losing too much money they were willing to look the other way. It was still a dangerous business, though, especially if you let people trample all over you. Hatter never let anybody get away with that.

Which was why he was headed downcity now. He had a few deliveries to make, and then planned on paying a certain tightfisted weasel of a client a visit. Hatter had a reputation and a sledgehammer hand, both remnants from his days in the Queen's employ. That was behind him now, of course, but the talents he had acquired still served him well.

He stopped cranking the pulley at the next doorway, wrapped the rope around the enormous hook next to the door, and hopped off the elevator. The building was dark, but it was a piece of cake to find an exit, since elevators were always near one. He found a door, and stepped out onto the narrow ledge. He was still a respectable distance above the lake, and the city's enormous buildings towered around him. It was very calm. It always was. Thousands of Wonderlanders lived here, and many of them were out and about during the day. But sound did not carry here, and their comings and goings were muted and gray.

He climbed down the nearest fire escape to a canal. It was suspended in the space between the two buildings, like a giant water pipe had been sawn in half. It sloped slowly and ponderously down to the ground level canals. The streets were grimy and littered with broken glass, the buildings rusted. The air was humid, and, at this time of day, far too hot. The canals saw the worst of the weather coming off of the lake. They were always too hot, too windy, or too bloody cold. A bit of a lousy district, really. Hatter conducted a lot of his business down here, but he had his shop up top for a reason. He checked the area for suits, stepped carefully onto the narrow steel walkway that fringed the upper canals, and walked along it with ease. Time to find his boat and make deliveries.

Two hours later, he was at a pawn shop in the center of the city. It was dark and musty along this stretch of the water. It didn't see a lot of traffic, or sunlight, and the canal was clouded with muck. And the smell. Hatter did not care for the smell at all.

The shop itself was brightly lit – not cheerfully or tastefully, but definitely brightly. Hatter stood in the open doorway, and the shop stretched below him down a short flight of stairs. It was circular, and a long counter ran along the wall, with goods displayed on shelves behind in. There were a few racks in the middle of the room with dried food goods and old rusted cans of ointment. Trickles of humidity clung to the ceiling, and the steel floor looked ready to cave in. The whole place was decrepit, an old relic in an old, poor neighborhood. But Hatter knew that the owner, Ricky, was anything but poor. He was ugly as sin, and not very bright, but definitely not poor.

Hatter knew this because Ricky could afford to buy some of his best teas and resell them at a steep price. Hatter didn't mind doing the supplying, of course, but he took pretty serious issue when his customers failed to pay up. And right now he had serious issues with Ricky. He sauntered up to the counter and clanged on the bell. There was a sound of falling boxes and something that sounded vaguely like a curse from the back room. Hatter grinned.

A few seconds later, a slender girl in a blue dress stepped out to the counter. "You need something?" Her voice was low and a little tired, with the accent of an other-sider. Her dark hair was pulled back from her face, which was delicate and a little angular. And her eyes a very bright blue. Hatter double-checked. Definitely blue. And hollow. This one had a broken heart in there somewhere.

He twirled his hat off his head casually. "Yeh. Is Ricky around?"

She shook her head abruptly. "No. He's been gone all day."

Hatter followed her quick glance at a side door. "You sure?"

"Yeah."

He shrugged and put his hat back on. "All right, then. Just let me at the cash box and I'll be on me way."

She glared at him, and he could see that she was frightened. "Is this a robbery?"

"Nope. He owes me."

She hesitated, then nodded towards the side door. "He's in there." No sooner had she said this, than the door creaked open and Ricky stepped out. He was lanky and bony, with long hair and a nose that was far too long for one individual. Hatter regarded him with indifference, and just a hint of disdain, and noted with satisfaction that Ricky had been expecting him.

"Hatter!" He said with blatantly forced enthusiasm. "Is something wrong?" He shot a sharp look at the girl.

Hatter also looked at the girl. "Does she know about our business, Ricky?"

The other man shrugged. "She'll keep quiet."

"Right. I believe you owe me about two-thousand."

Ricky's nose twitched. "Fifteen."

"Nope, two-thousand." _Weasel._ Hatter rested his right arm on the counter pointedly. Ricky glanced towards it, sighed, and walked with deliberate slowness into the back room. He re-emerged with a handful of bills and counted them out on the counter for Hatter to see. The girl stood quietly, arms folded across her chest, observing them. Hatter pocketed the money and looked at her again. "Is she an oyster, Ricky?"

Ricky curled his lip. "Uh-huh. But that's not what she's 'ere for."

"For what, then?"

"Tends the counter and cleans things up. Some bloke brought 'er in a few months ago. Never bought 'er back."

"How much?" The words were out before Hatter realized it. Prompted by pity, he supposed. He hated to leave her in this place when she looked so scared.

Ricky's eyebrow lifted in surprise, but he answered without hesitation, "Five hundred."

"Five hundred? Don't flamingo me, Ricky."

"She can keep the books better'n most. Clean. Cook. The works." Ricky's nose twitched again. "And she's a reader."

"She's an oyster. They all can read."

"That's not what I meant. She can read 'er teas. Knows how much, which ones. Has an instinct for it."

"Is she stuck on any of them?"Hatter asked, stealing a quick glance at her. She was watching them still, clear-eyed and alert.

Stuck, of course, meant addicted. It didn't happen nearly as much to oysters as it did to Wonderlanders, but when it did...well, it was more or less permanent. Once they reached a certain point, they were expensive to keep and useless. Like lamed horses. Many owners threatened to kill their oysters if they became addicted, and some actually did, knowing that there would be no repercussions. This was something Hatter did not like about the oyster tea business.

"Does she look stuck to you?" Ricky grabbed the girl's arm and pulled back her sleeve, revealing green tattoos across her forearm and bicep. Then he pulled a paper card with identical markings from his vest pocket and handed it to Hatter. "She's a six, so she won't be gettin' stuck either, as long as you don't let 'er at anything."

"What's her name?"

"Alice Hamilton." The girl answered before Ricky had the chance to.

Hatter nodded and rubbed the back of his neck, regarding her one final time. She didn't look like a talker, but then, they never did. He needed help in the shop, and maybe somebody to chat with. Her eyes really were very blue. Very very blue. Hatter wondered how old she was. Had she grown up here? Sometimes entire families of oysters were brought through the Looking Glass at once, and the children spent their years with only vague memories of their former lives. It was easier that way. Children didn't have to be drugged into submission the way the adults did. They were usually more expensive, but you could keep them for years, no problem. And this girl…this _Alice_…well, she wasn't far past childhood. Hatter could tell. Another thing to dislike about the business.

He looked away from her, focusing instead on the wrinkle lines on Ricky's forehead. "All right Ricky. I'll take her for three hundred. No more, got it?"

He was expecting a bit of a fight. This was Ricky, after all. But to his surprise, Ricky shoved her towards him. "All yours."

Hatter gave him a quick nod. "Thanks, mate."

Hatter was not the chatting type. Sure, he liked a nice conversation as much as the next person, but the underbelly of the city was not the place to find it. He produced the three hundred, and then offered his arm to the girl to assist her outside and into the motorboat. The engine spluttered to life, and in seconds the pawn shop and the filthy docks were out of sight.

Hatter watched her face unabashedly as they navigated the city's maze of waterways. She was staring blankly ahead, and didn't even look at him. He was beginning to write off the prospect of having somebody to play Shribble and cards with in the evenings. But she knew her teas, and that was the important bit, now wasn't it? She had that edge to her that oysters tended to get, when Wonderland hit them a little too hard. It was like a callous around those busy little minds of theirs, keeping all the pearls of emotion locked inside. Unless, of course, their masters put them on a machine. Then it didn't matter how much callous they had. Hatter was liking the oyster trade less and less by the minute.

He was also liking the silence less and less. It was stretching out a bit uncomfortably for his tastes. He coughed a little. She glanced up, then looked away, uninterested. Great. Ricky had probably drained her too much, leaving her completely apathetic. At least the chaps at the shop would be none the wiser. They were too stuck on their tea to care. He ventured to break the silence.

"So. Ricky. Did he treat you all right?"

She shrugged without raising her eyes.

"Look, no offense, but I got nothing from that. Zilch. Nill."

She swallowed deliberately. "Yeah, he was all right."

Hatter tried a smile. "You can talk, then. You had me worried."

"Sorry."

"For talking, or sorry for worrying me?"

Another shrug. She wasn't taking the bait.

"All right, then…how old are you?"

And yet another shrug. "I don't know. Twenty, maybe. I've lost track."

Hatter was not surprised. He mirrored her shrug and plastered a grin on his face. "Myself, I'm a hundred and nine. Old as they come."

"Old as they come? You're still a baby." She allowed just a hint of a smile to slip, and Hatter's grin turned genuine.

"I wouldn't say baby. I'm in me prime." He winked at her. When she clammed up and didn't respond, he mentally added, _Brilliant._


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you so much for the lovely reviews, dear readers! They made my week. I plan to update this every Tuesday. - Doppler

Hatter held the door to his tea house open for his new oyster and followed her in. They were assaulted by the sounds of shouting and the cloying smell of sweat and tea. It was a long, low-ceilinged room, lit by windows along one wall. Blocks of tile lined the dirt aisle that ran through the center. Out of this aisle grew ragged patches of flowers, and out of each tile block sprouted a pearly set of table and chairs, and in each of these were shouting men and women dressed for all different classes and professions. The aisle was crowded with them. A trading floor. Alice hesitated, but Hatter grabbed her arm and pushed right through, pulling her behind him. "Home sweet home," he said over the noise.

They passed through several smaller rooms beyond the trading floor, out into a respectably sized courtyard. It was surrounded on three sides by the walls of the shop, but the fourth space was open to the city. A gray cloud bank hung over the darkening sky, making the air feel heavy and damp. Hatter flipped a light switch, and Alice could see a space set up with all the trappings of an office on the far side of the courtyard, including a verdant carpet of grass and a slightly ridiculous wing-backed chair.

Hatter was more in love with that chair than he was willing to admit. He flopped into it, spun it around once because he could, and then regarded Alice with steepled hands and raised eyebrows. She was standing by the door, staring at him in slight bewilderment. "Right, Alice, welcome to me home. You'll be doing a lot of the cleaning up and fixing up and smiling at customers. Then, if you have a nose for it, I'll let you at the teas." He jumped to his feet and stepped up to the shelves of glass bottles that lined the back wall. He ran his fingers over a few of them, and finally selected a smaller jar with a pale yellow brew inside of it. Turning to face her, he added, "Payday is once every two weeks. Questions?"

"Hold on," she said. "Payday?" She had been watching him with a suspicious glint in her eye that was a little bit exhilarating. Now she looked more confused than ever.

"Yeh, payday." Hatter grinned, thoroughly enjoying himself. Oysters were really quite fascinating when they were confused.

"Why? What's the catch?"

"Catch?" The grin wilted a little. "What catch? I'm not an oyster runner, right? I only deal in tea. You're me hired help now."

She frowned. "I don't get it. Why would you help me?" She looked tired. Really tired. Hatter indicated that she should take a seat on the couch near his desk. She did so gratefully, and sank gingerly back into the white cushions.

"Do you know what I do with me money, Alice?"

"I know you always get your cut," she said tersely.

Hatter quirked an eyebrow. "Sure. But I have me good side. Philanthropy and all that. That's why you're here. Trust me, I won't hurt you."

"So you won't be draining me?" She said it quickly, confidently, but he could hear the trace of dread beneath that.

"Nope. Is that what Ricky did?"

She chewed the inside of her cheek. "Not as much as some. Enough."

He nodded and held up the bottle of tea. "Here's me goodwill gesture. Care for some Bliss?"

She looked at it and shook her head. "I don't drink tea."

Surprised, Hatter slid the bottle back into place. "Straight tea, then?" Straight tea being the stuff they called tea on the Other Side, with herbs and fruit and all that. Hatter was partial to it.

She hesitated. "Sure."

"Cherry or lemon?" He opened a cupboard and produced a teapot, which he set below the mouth of a steamer on the desktop.

"Cherry." She watched as he tapped a generous serving of pink sugar into the pot. The water was at a boil within seconds. He filled the pot, tossed in a tea bag, and sat beside her on the couch. He produced two teacups and filled one, then leaned forward to give it to her. His breath brushed against her ear. "Great choice. Means you aren't _sour_." She jumped and the tea lapped at the edge of the cup.

She scowled and moved away. "You're crazy."

"Me? I'm not the one jumping out of me skin. Relax." He poured himself a cup and sipped it, staring the opposite wall. He could feel her watching him. She was like a cat, quick and wary in all her movements. A skittish, frightened cat. He felt a slight pang of guilt for frightening her. He could see why Ricky had let her go so easily. It was a bit of a rare thing for an oyster to be argumentative…they weren't usually sentient enough. "I don't suppose you play Shribble?"

"What?" Her response was abrupt, almost indignant.

He turned to face her and took another swallow. "Shribble. It's fantastic for relaxation."

She was suddenly very involved in scrutinizing her tea cup. It was shaped like an hourglass, with the small figure of a white horse in the middle, staring up at the rim. Hatter had a matching red one. He thought they were a bit creepy. Alice looked back up at him. Blue eyes again. They showed everything she was thinking, which was a bit odd after being around tea-heads for so long. And now she was saying something, and her eyes were flaring with intensity. "I don't know how to read very well."

Hatter blinked. "I thought all you oysters could read."

"Well I don't know anything but the basics." She handed her cup back to him. "I'd like to go to sleep now, if it's all the same."

He accepted it and left the tea things on the desk. Gesturing for her to follow him, he led her out the door and through a side hallway. They stopped in front of the second door on the right, and he produced a ring of keys with a flourish and opened it. She stepped inside. He left, promising, come what may, to bring dinner.

It was a modest pale-green room, with a small window in one wall. It smelled like old wood and dead insects. The furnishings were simple - a writing desk, a grotesquely carved bedside table with a lamp perched on it, an empty storage chest, and a small bed. A mirror was placed above the desk. Alice stared in fascination at her reflection. She had not seen it in several years. It stared back at her, a frightened pale face with pain-filled eyes that looked larger than they actually were. Like a little child. Alice did not feel like a little child. She did not feel like much of anything.

It was nice upcity. She hadn't been here in a while. Some oysters spent their entire lives in the lowest levels, away from the prying eyes of the Suits. She stood at the window and tried to convince herself that she was not dreaming…that she was really and truly an employee. A dizzying drop stretched below into the darkness. Across from her, refuse-ridden wooden apartments and dying trees stood rooted on top of the building supporting them. A city falling into ruin. She tried to imagine herself freely wandering through it, and couldn't. That is, she could imagine exploring well enough, but being _allowed_ to was a different matter entirely. Hatter could not have meant _that_ much freedom.

His lilting voice and ridiculous veneer of innocence preoccupied her. He was not innocent. He couldn't be. He was a showman. The nuances of his voice were strange to her, after Ricky's dull anger. But when was the last time she saw a face glint and sparkle like that? Maybe they did that more upcity, where they weren't as desperate. Maybe it wasn't, in reality, a glint and a sparkle, but just her imagination. It didn't matter. It was like a drink of cool water.

Wonderlanders as a general rule were…different. They had the same range of personalities and feelings that oysters did, but something in them reacted differently. Like everything they felt was muted. Alice had been in Wonderland for a long time. She was familiar with their closed faces. They rarely used larger facial expressions…everything was tiny, showing in the crinkles around the eyes, the curve of the lips, or in the eyes themselves. How odd, then, that Hatter used so much of his face. And he had wrinkles, which meant he did it habitually, without thinking about it. How strange. But he still had the hardness to him.

The peculiar hardness, the distance, was something she still did not quite understand. She could not remember enough of the Other Side to know if there was any equivalent. When they weren't running on a dose of tea, everyone was wary and heartless here. Or tired. Alice wasn't sure which it was. She knew that oysters new to Wonderland – even the most stoic and hardened of them – were like open books compared to its native inhabitants. She herself had grown hard, into a strange crossbreed between the two. And this happened to all the trafficked oysters eventually, if the draining didn't kill them first.

Because of course, they were drained so the Wonderlanders would not feel the hardness. Somebody, several generations ago, had envied the oysters' abundant emotions enough to steal them. It was a potent drug for them, to feel sharply and cleanly, like somebody had removed their skin, allowing the nerves to feel more painfully and wonderfully than ever before. It killed them, if they were not careful. Alice hoped that her own emotions would kill one of them. She hoped they choked on them, that their hearts ruptured.

_Vulcans_…they were all _Vulcans_.

Alice stopped. There it was again. A word in her head that she didn't know. She had no idea what a Vulcan was, aside from a vague impression of impassive solidity. She gritted her teeth. It was frustrating, and left her helpless…this not knowing what these images and words were. She could only assume that they were leftover from the other side. She felt robbed and desolate when it happened. Crippled. Alice was not timid by any means, but the remnants of her world never failed to make her pull in. They never failed to remind her that she couldn't trust the inhabitants of this one. They were kind to each other, sometimes, but never to oysters.

Hatter had been, though….

She sighed and flopped back on the bed. It was very soft, and the room was simple and clean. Where was the trick? What was his plan? She didn't even bother to entertain the idea that he might be sincere. It was too much to believe. For tonight, she no longer cared. Let him be sincere or cruel. Let them all go kill themselves. Alice just wanted to rest, to not feel empty.

The emptiness had been involuntary at first. It came every time they drugged her and stimulated her emotions and took them away. Finally, she realized that the less she allowed herself to feel, even under drugs, the less there was for them to take. It had nearly killed her, but at least she had that sliver of control. Then there was a whole chain of owners, who never kept her because she defective and strong-willed. Because she was too alive for an oyster. Alice fought hard when they tried to drug her. Every time. It never made a difference. There was always another master. But at least she tried.

Then there was Ricky, who was desperate enough to take her emotions whether she had them or not. The worst of it that was every time she felt something now, it was intense. Like a flood of water filling an empty shell. And she was trapped in the shell. And she could barely swim. Now she had some conception of what the Wonderlanders felt when they drank tea, and she hated it. But if Hatter did not drain her…perhaps things would change again. Maybe the floods would subside into rivers. Rivers could be directed and cultivated. Maybe….

But tonight, Alice did not have the strength to feel hopefulness. She curled up on the bed, shielding her face against the ceiling light with her arm, inhaling the slightly burnt smell of her Glow, and concentrating on each breath. When Hatter came in a few minutes later, she was fast asleep. He turned off the lights and left her there.


	3. Chapter 3

Hello again dear readers. I am very, very sorry that this update is so late. I was traveling, and my internet access was…well, not what I thought it would be. Let's leave it at that. On a happier note, it was awesome to come back to find your reviews and "follows" in my inbox. They have made my week more cheerful, so thank you for that.

A huge shout-out to vanilla212, who was gracious enough to beta this chapter!

* * *

Hatter was up early the next morning. He usually was. Early bird gets the worm, baits his hook with it, and has fish for breakfast. Or something like that. The point was, he liked mornings. And this morning, he had a new oyster. The excitement reminded him of getting his first puppy. Or at least, he would have felt this way if he had ever been given a puppy. Not that he'd ever been given one, but that was beside the point.

He sorted impatiently through a stack of transactions in his office. Boring, this. Just how late was she going to sleep? Did oysters need a lot of sleep? He hadn't considered that. He didn't need much at all, but she might be a different story.  
A high-pitched scream from somewhere in the shop jerked him abruptly out of his musings. A door slammed, and footsteps scurried down the hallway. His office door flew open, and a pudgy little man waddled in, gesturing frantically. Hatter hopped to his feet. "Dormie, what the - "

"Hatter, oyster! In the shop!" Dormie squeaked.

Alice made her entrance, eyes flashing, and Dormie scrambled to get behind Hatter. Alice spotted him and started to storm after him. Hatter stepped forward and held up his hands, blocking her path. "Whoa, hold on. What's the fuss, hmm?"

Her breath hissed through her teeth. "He tried to throw me out the window!"

Hatter made a face and stepped out from between them. "Dormie?" He glanced at his assistant, who had turned an unattractive shade of yellow, then back at her. "You sure?"

She folded her arms and nodded. "He told one of those _thugs_ out there to toss me off the ledge. I am damn well not going to be thrown off a ledge my first day on the job."

Hatter narrowed his eyes. "What thugs, Dormie?"

The little man shrugged apologetically. "A few friends of mine, Hatter. Nothing to worry about."

He was using his salesman voice, which meant it was most definitely something to worry about. Hatter sighed. "Right, I want to talk to you later. For now, off you go. Not a word about the oyster." Dormie scurried off. "Take your mates with you!" Hatter called after him.

He turned to the oyster – the _Alice_ – and flashed her a reassuring smile. "He's a bit nuts. Sleep well?"

"Yes." She took a step back, hesitated, then added, "Thanks."

"Not a problem. Right, Alice, let's go see what you'll be doing."

He showed her to the far side of the trading floor. The room was empty and silent, the shop not having opened yet. It was eerie to Alice after the pandemonium of the day before.

On this end of the floor, there were more tables on blocks, clustered around a circular metal counter. A matching counter hung from the ceiling, directly above the lower one. The three-foot gap between these was barred with iron like a cell, with hinged doors that could be opened to slide tea out to customers. The only way into the room behind the counter was through a sturdy steel door. Alice wondered how the ceiling could even support the weight of this contraption. It was definitely not typical for a tea bar.

She watched in fascination as Hatter produced the appropriate key for this door and showed her in.

It was all shelves inside, some with bottles, some with cups, and some with empty slots waiting to be filled. A strongbox rested on the floor beside a case of empty bottles. Hatter nudged it with his toe. "This is stapled to the floor and locked shut." He gestured to the shelves. "The teas are stacked by price and quality. Always ask for a higher price than the one a bottle's tagged for. Most of them will be too desperate to barter down. Got it?"

She nodded.

"Good. There's a shotgun under the counter. I've never had to use it, but it's there if you need it. I'll show you how it works later." He pulled a sheave of papers from a rack stapled beneath the counter. "All sales get written up here. It's a simple scratch system — you just have to add things up. Easy. You _can_ count, right?" He kept his face perfectly straight.

She smirked a little. "Yes, I can count. Probably higher than you can."

"Ooh, I've hired a brain. Peachy."

She scowled and grabbed the papers from him. "What'll I do about my Glow?"

"What?" He was watching her read the page, noting how long it took her to sound out the words to herself. She hadn't been kidding about the whole reading thing.

She looked up. "My Glow. On my arm."

Her Glow was very much visible, snaking out as it was from underneath her dirty dress. "Can't have the tea-heads seeing that, can we?" He pursed his lips. "You can borrow a jacket. That should do the trick."

He showed her the different teas and was pleased to see that she already knew most of them. After setting her straight on the distinction between Melancholy and Sadness, he taught her how to write up sales and mark in bids.

His mind wasn't really on this, since it was already too busy wondering precisely what he had signed up for. According to accepted rumor, oysters were incapable of complex reasoning because their emotions were so strong. They were also gullible. And she, Alice, was attractive. Too attractive to be around tea-heads? Maybe tending the counter wasn't such a good job for her….

"So is this it?" She was leaning against the counter, waiting.

He blinked. "Yes. Well, no. Do me a favor, all right?"

She made a gesture of assent.

"Keep your face calm and don't talk much. Better yet, pretend you can't speak at all. Any half-wit will notice the difference between you and one of us if you speak, Glow or not."

She set her jaw. "What if there's a problem? I don't trust the little rat guy."

"Dormie's handled." He held the steel door open for her and locked it behind them. "I'll stay down here until you get the hang of things. How does that sound?"

She frowned. "I don't know."

"What? You still don't trust me?"

"Of course I don't. I've known you for less than a day! How do I know this isn't some kind of stupid trick?"

Her eyes were flashing again, much to Hatter's amusement. Watching the oyster get angry was far more pleasurable than it ought to have been, and he privately wondered if he had some previously-unrealized sadistic streak.

Her concerns were valid, he knew – not that he had a definitive way to answer them. _I'm sorry you've been taken advantage of your whole life, and that the idea of a paying job and a decent boss is so inconceivable to you. Oh, and I'm also sorry that my assistant is a human rat and smells bad._

But all he said was, "I'm giving you a chance. Give me one, all right?" He extended his hand and waited for her to take it.

She deliberated, and then gave it a tentative shake. "Don't lie to me." It was more of a plea than a command.

He met her eyes. "I won't."

They both dropped the subject after that, moving to the more neutral territory of how the floor ought to be swept. Then he went out, coming back a few minutes later with a faded burgundy coat. Alice accepted it, and thanked him for the second time that day.

She returned to work.

Hatter admired the coat on her. The color and the cut suited her, and he liked the way she settled so comfortably into it. It had been collateral from an unfortunate client some time ago, and he'd kept it around because…well, a fellow never knew. Here at least was a better use for it.

Her dress was quite dirty, wasn't it? How had she managed that so early in the day? It couldn't have been the sweeping.

_You're staring at her, idiot. Get back to work._

He was halfway to the door when the answer occurred to him…of course her dress was dirty. It was the only one she owned! Hatter slapped a palm to his forehead and pivoted around. "Look, Alice, we need to go get you some clothes."

"Why?"

"I can't have me employees dressed in rags, right? Let's go find something. We'll be back before you know it."

She looked her dress over and frowned. "No, this is still good. I'll get some with my money later."

He rolled his eyes impatiently. "Are you doing that on _purpose_, trying to offend me?"

She shrugged, and Hatter briefly considered throwing his hat at her. Would it kill her to give a positive emotional response?

He sighed. "Look, it's costing me nothing I can't afford. It's me job to take care of you, so come on."

And that was that. She put the broom away, he locked the shop, and they were off.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Hello again, lovely people. This chapter has been a long time coming, but here it is. Thanks to Vanilla212 for betaing it. She is fantastic, and you should send her a PM telling her so. :)

I am a super busy college student, which means that I frequently run short on two things – time to write and good music to listen to. So why don't you all play a little game with me? If you are leaving a review anyway, leave the title and artist of a song that you think fits where Hatter/Alice's relationship is at in the chapter you're reviewing (and if it isn't on Youtube, please tell me where I can find it). I will pick my fav(s), and go back and add them to the "soundtrack list" for that chapter. Sound good? Good.

Oh, and since I have yet to include one - disclaimer: don't own it, never will.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

Wonderland's clothing shops were a bit like the soup you would get from a dodgy restaurant in the lower canal district: stuffed with odd bits and pieces, and best not to think about where it all came from. The clothing was everything from antique to modern, and there were even a few ancient pieces dating back to the Industrial Chessboard Era. Some things were just bizarre, and a period where they might have been fashionable didn't bear contemplating. There was no guarantee that you would find what you wanted, though you might find everything but.

The controlled chaos of shopping usually did good things for Hatter's sanity, and shopping with Alice was just as enjoyable as he'd hoped it would be — for about ten minutes. By minute eleven, things were going down the hill, so to speak. It wasn't that she was trying to be difficult, although he couldn't entirely rule out that possibility. Despite their earlier truce, the girl had yet to lighten up. She didn't quite seem to grasp the concept

Maybe he should have started at a different shop. This one, located on an isolated city block accessible only by bridge, catered almost solely to tea-heads with small purses. It wasn't the most comfortable environment for an oyster, and her relatively pleasant mood had melted away, leaving in its place an unpredictability that he really did not want to deal with at the moment. It might have been refreshing under different circumstances, but her timing was atrocious.

By minute fifteen, his oyster was standing with clenched fists while Twenty, the proprietor, threw dresses and scarves in her general direction. Twenty, who had obviously started her day with a drop or six of tea, eventually stopped throwing clothes and sidled over to tug on her paralyzed customer's jacket, slurring something about taking it off. Alice let out an indignant little yelp and jumped back, one hand holding the jacket sleeve over her glow.

Oblivious, Twenty tugged on the jacket again. Alarmed, Alice screamed at the shopkeeper and slapped her face before Hatter had time to react.

Right. Not good. He grabbed Alice's arm and pulled her towards the door.

"Sorry about this," he said to Twenty. "She's stuck on a cheap Anticipation cocktail right now. Way too much Irritability in the mix."  
"I am not!" Alice snapped, yanking her arm away.  
Hatter shrugged helplessly back at the proprietor. "See what I mean?"  
Twenty winced and bobbed her head sympathetically. She knew plenty about the downsides of poorly-blended tea. "I'll just wrap a few of these for you, sweetheart. They'll be right out."  
Hatter was not listening by then, since it was taking most of his concentration not to say some rather scathing things to his little oyster._ Alice_, he mentally corrected, as she stormed out the door and across the bridge. He jogged after her. "Alice, where do you think you're going?"

"I don't know," she snapped back. "Away from you."

He passed her and turned to block her way with upheld hands. "Look, you can't just traipse off through the city, right?" He took a tentative step towards her. "Calm down."

The shop door opened behind them, and Twenty waddled out, two packages balanced on one hand and a cup of tea in the other. Hatter gave Alice a warning look and murmured, "Be nice."

He caught a whiff of Twenty's tea as she dumped the packages into his arms. She reeked of Lust, low-quality if he had to guess, and her glassy eyes raked appreciatively over his form. Hatter decided that it was high time to move on, though he made a mental note to include her in his tea deliveries. Money was money, after all. "Put it on my credit. I'll send Dormie down later to pay up."

He steered Alice forward with a hand on her shoulder, ignoring her attempt to pull away. On the far side of the bridge, he released her and waited for her reaction.

She gave him a look that made his hair stand on end. "_Stuck _on Anticipation?"

Hatter rubbed the back of his neck. "Look," he said in as placating a tone as he could muster, "let me try the next shop, all right? You can...I don't know...wait outside and enjoy the view. I won't force you to go in."

Fortunately, he'd had a lot of practice when it came to placating people. Her anger deflated a little. "But you don't know my size."  
"I'm an old hand at this sort of thing," he said confidently.

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Hatter wanted to take them back. What kind of impression did that give, telling her that he was experienced at picking out clothes for women? Either it didn't sound as dirty to Alice as it did in his own mind, or she was so accustomed to dealing with lowlifes that she just didn't care.

"Fine." She was already staring back across the bridge, all but completely ignoring him. Hatter ground his teeth and went off in search of another shop. What, precisely, did he do to set her off this time? One minute they had a truce, the next she was being erratic. But then it wasn't him she was upset with, was it? Not really. He should have chosen a different shop. Blasted oysters.

With a smile plastered on his face, Hatter stepped into the next shop. The shopkeeper had a taste for older styles, apparently, and he wrinkled his nose at the selection of balloon suits displayed just inside the door.

He tried imagining Alice in one, and failed. Something a bit more tasteful, then. He stepped further back into the cramped aisles and hunted for something decent. It took him half an hour to find a few nice dresses and a pair of trousers trendy enough for her to work in. He added a light jacket to hide her Glow, paid for everything, and stepped outside.

He went back to the bridge, intending to leave the purchases with Alice while he hunted for more.

Somehow, he wasn't all that surprised to find that she was nowhere in sight.

He frowned. "Alice?"

No answer, naturally. He glanced around for a passerby who might have seen her, but the street was empty. _Brilliant._

He left the bags with Twenty (who was too preoccupied to object) and jogged through the block of streets. Within five minutes, he was reasonably sure that she wasn't on this level, which meant that she had either gone further up, down to the lower levels, or back across the bridge.

Hatter muttered curses under his breath as he created a mental checklist of the possibilities. She wouldn't know how to get back to his shop, and she definitely wouldn't know the way to Ricky's from here. Even if she'd known her way around, there was no reason to think she would go to someone she knew — she was an oyster, not a stray dog. That left...well, pretty much everywhere else. There were literally hundreds of places she could have reached in half an hour, and that was assuming she hadn't been taken against her will. Surely she wouldn't have been stupid enough to talk to somebody.

He swallowed and forced himself to make a decision.

He would search this block first, to rule out the most obvious places. If she wasn't here, he would head straight back to the shop in case she had somehow found her way there.

That left the question of whether to go downcity or up.

That was a fear of heights he'd seen earlier, right? Most likely. Which meant down was the logical thing way to go. But this was Alice, so on an impulse he decided to do the opposite of what made logical sense. Up it was, then.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

He worked his way up ten more levels, stopping to search every other one. It took nearly an hour to reach the top. He groaned in frustration. He would never find her at this pace.

The clay roof was littered with building materials and an incomplete brick house. He grabbed his hat to keep the wind from taking it and looked around. Nothing.

He was starting the climb back down when a faint, breathy whistling reached his ears, coming from the other side of the building. Curious in spite of his sour mood, he stepped around to investigate.

And there she was.

She stood near the edge, her slender fingers clutching tightly at her coat to keep it closed against the wind. Her brow was furrowed in concentration, and she was trying (somewhat unsuccessfully) to whistle. Hatter ignored the sudden lump in his throat. He supposed he ought to be furious at her right now, but the sight of her there, shivering and whistling on the edge of the roof, was so strange and pitiful that he couldn't seem to hold onto his anger.

At least his anger had the decency to leave a little irritation behind.

He approached her quietly, being mindful to stay out of range in case she should try to slap him. He tapped her on the shoulder, and she whirled around so quickly that he barely had time to dodge her fist flying at his face. The action nearly caused her to fall off the roof. Hatter lunged forward just in time to catch her by the wrist and pull her to safety.

She tried to steady herself, nearly crushing his hand as she did so. Considering that her entire arm was rigid and shaking, he was surprised at the strength of her grip. Maybe he shouldn't have done that. Startled her, that is…not saved her from falling.

He released her hand and stepped back.

She followed, putting a considerable distance between herself and the edge. He expected her to shout at him, and she did not disappoint. "What the hell was that for?"

"You should be telling me," he shot back, unable to resist a little snapping of his own. He took his hat off and ran a finger along the rim, determined not to make contact with those ridiculous blue eyes.

"You're out of breath."

"What?"

She gave a small jerk of her head. "You're pale and sweaty. Did Twenty sell you any of the stuff she was drinking?"

That was unexpected. _Twenty_ selling to _him_? Miffed, he slipped a little more scorn into his retort. "How did you think I would be, tramping after you?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but apparently thought better of it, instead stepping into the incomplete building to pick up her packages.

He was right behind her. "What does tea have to do with this? You ran off and didn't tell me where. Does that not seem a bit stupid to you?"

She didn't answer, but focused on the ground, waiting for him to finish.

He sighed. "What were you doing up here?"

She chewed her lip and shook her head.

"Alice? Are you going to answer me or not?"

She still didn't answer. After a long moment of silence, she pointed at a stack of building materials near the corner of the roof. "Is that blood on those bricks?"

_What?_ He followed her finger. "Yeah, things get violent on the rooftops sometimes." He indicated a line several blocks over that ran from rooftop to rooftop. "The syndicate that owns the cable system tends to be a little...territorial, you might say. Bad idea to cross them. I don't work the upper levels in this part of the city."

She was looking at him now, her interest piqued. "Are we in danger right now?"

He frowned and shook his head. "It's late. Let's get back to the shop."

He tugged the heaviest package out of her hand before she could protest and began the climb down. To his relief, Alice followed close behind him.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

Neither of them spoke until they had descended seven levels, crossed two bridges, and squeezed down a narrow alley. Hatter was keeping track.

Alice decided to break the silence at bridge number three.

"I went up there because I could," she said suddenly, in a voice that was much more subdued than before.  
He stopped walking and turned to face her, waiting for her to continue.  
"I went because I have never been up there."  
"I thought you didn't like heights?"  
If she was surprised that he noticed that, she didn't show it. "I don't. They give me the heebies."  
"The_ heebies_?"  
"It's from my world, I think."

"Right."

Hatter continued on, looking back often to make sure that Alice was still with him and occasionally stopping to help her down from ladders that stopped short of the ground – there were quite a few of those. He deliberately prolonged their route, choosing paths that would let her see more of the city. Better to take a little time to show her the sights, he told himself, than to have her running off on her own to see them. Curiosity was a dangerous emotion, especially for an oyster, but it was the most positive feeling he'd seen from her — far better than fear and anger, if a bit less easy to manage.

Besides that, he also wanted to reward her for telling him why she went up to the roof. He wanted her to get it through her thick skull that she was safe with him, that he would be decent to her even when she did something foolish.

As Hatter waited for her to ascend a ladder after him, an idea suddenly hit him. She wouldn't have seen this before — Ricky and his ilk were always too focused on their next fix to notice the city's hidden wonders, much less point them out to a captive oyster.

"Are you tired yet?"

"Me? I'm all right," she said noncommittally.

"All right enough to see a bit more of the city before we go back to work?"

Alice looked up at him, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Why?"

Wary of inadvertently sparking another temper tantrum, he let out a forced chuckle. "I've not been out and about for a bit. Work and all that."

She reached the top of the ladder and swung herself up. "Where did you want to go?"

He smiled, and this time it was genuine. "Have you ever had the pleasure of talking with a Cheshire Cat?"

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

Alice walked alongside Hatter, listening to him explain in some detail about Cheshire Cats. Whenever they were complimented, Cheshire Cats had no choice but to grin. They couldn't help it, the ridiculous creatures, and the more extravagant the compliment, the better. According to Hatter, most Cheshires were intelligent and would attack anyone who didn't know the ropes of interacting with them. Alice already knew all of this, but she didn't mention that to him.

She was relieved that he was being cheerful again. She didn't understand why he talked as much as he did with such a risky line of work. Didn't he worry about letting too much slip?

That odd face of his was even more animated than usual, but not in a frightening way. She kept stealing glances at him, inexplicably fascinated by the way his eyebrows moved.

Hatter guided her through a maze of docks and platforms built over the lake. An awning supported by pillars covered most of the paths, filtering out much of the light that wasn't already blocked by the towering buildings. The water wasn't exactly pristine here, but it was cleaner by far than the canals. Crows hemmed and hawed above them, arguing over food scraps. Most of the mooring posts were unoccupied, but here and there an engine hummed, and Alice even spotted a rowboat. A damp breeze tugged at her hair, and she found herself thinking that she might be able to like this place.

They threaded their way through the rotting paths and broken steps to an obscure corner. A small glass motorboat nested snugly between a brick wall and the platform, secured there by a line that looked like it could snap at any moment. A burlap sack was pulled tightly across half of it, creating a sort of cave. Alice could have sworn that she heard purring.

Ever the showman, Hatter adjusted his hat and hopped jauntily into the boat. "Hey, Chez, get out here. There's somebody you should meet."

Abruptly, the purring ceased, and a muffled tenor voice came from the cave. "I do not care to meet anybody today. Please depart the way you came."

Hatter looked back at Alice with a knowing look. "He's a bit anti-social."

"I can tell." She folded her arms and waited.

"Come on, gorgeous, don't be shy," Hatter said to the voice.

There was a grumbling sigh, and a kitten emerged from the makeshift shelter. Once it was fully in view, Alice saw that it was not a kitten, but in fact a very small tomcat. It sat gingerly on the bow, wearing a polite smile that may as well have been a sneer, and licked its paw. "Who's your lady, Hatter?" it asked in a cultured voice.

"She's me employee."

It spared her a glance. "She's pretty, I suppose," it pronounced, and went back to grooming.

Alice scowled. "I have a name." She narrowed her eyes and added, "you're pretty too."

The cat's smile widened into a grin, displaying a row of milk-white teeth. "Believe me, I am quite aware of that. What is her name, Hatter?" Its eyes were glittering rather unpleasantly.

"My name is Alice. You could just ask me."

Hatter gave her a quick approving look. "Chezerin, this is Alice. Alice, this is Chezerin, the most handsome, intelligent, magnanimous Cheshire Cat on this dock."

The cat's grin widened further, stretching past the width of its ears. Alice almost felt sorry for it.

"Oh, and it also has great fashion sense," Hatter added for good measure.

"You should know, Hatter," Chezerin said through its now gargantuan grin, "that I absolutely despise you."

The sight was so incongruous that Alice could not stop a small giggle from escaping. Her eyes widened in surprise when she realized the source of the sound. Hatter hid his surprise in a smirk, and, tweaking her hair, said, "Good news, you have a sense of humor, Alice."

"I guess so."

The cat hissed through its teeth, the grin still firmly in place.


	5. Chapter 5

Hello again, lovely readers. As always, vanilla212 has done a fantastic job betaing this chapter. Chapter Six is written and undergoing editing, so expect it within the next week!

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

Alice was adapting very well to life in Hatter's shop. At least, she was fairly sure she was.

Her first day on the floor was not that bad, all things considered. She chose one of her favorites from among her new dresses. It was a bright shade of green, and made from soft cloth that felt soothing to her. Its sleeves extended past her elbows to completely conceal her Glow. The skirt flared gently around her knees in three layers that brushed against her skin when she walked. Her boots were old, but they did not seem so old with this dress.

She studied her reflection in her mirror, and decided that she looked…nice. Alice had never thought of herself as pretty, but the dress was pretty, and that was almost as good.

The day started quietly. Dormie arrived, gave Hatter a terse greeting and Alice a wary little wave, then scuttled off down a back hallway. Hatter showed her a little bit more about measuring the teas, and, true to Ricky's guarantee, they found she had a natural instinct for it.

Alice knew this already, but having it affirmed by somebody who knew the business as well as Hatter did made her feel...happy? She thought it must be Happiness, or maybe Liberation. She wasn't quite sure which, but she did know that since she had been off the drainer, she was becoming more aware of her emotions. It was like seeing the familiar faces of long-lost friends and acquaintances.

Hatter said she was too smart to be an oyster, but she had trouble believing it. It wasn't that she was smarter, it was that he had never been around a sentient oyster. Maybe they were all like this off the drainer. She couldn't remember.

There were only a few morning customers, and Hatter took these to the back of the shop. Alice knew why, of course. That was where he kept all the teas the Suits weren't to know about.

After wrapping up the early morning business, Hatter showed her to a little kitchen. The room was painted with hideous zebra stripes, and a garish advertisement for the Happy Hearts Casino was taped to the ceiling. A small wooden cold food chest was tucked in the far corner, and she could hear its gears whirring and clinking noisily. Or maybe the noise was coming from the massive boiler that was mounted to the ceiling. Alice wasn't sure. She wondered why Hatter did not buy nicer appliances. He could easily afford better than this.

Shelves lined every available inch of wall space. Some were empty, while others were packed to overflowing with foodstuffs. Alice thought she saw a packet of sewing needles on one shelf, but it could have been her imagination. A black substance that looked suspiciously like soot was clinging to the walls in some places, and the cracked tile floor looked like it hadn't been mopped in years.

The stove was a monstrous contraption that squatted near the door, as if to threaten anybody who dared step inside. Dormie was frying what smelled like pickled borogove, and the odor filled the small room and wafted into the hallway. Dormie hardly bothered to conceal his trepidation as he heaped some of the greasy mess onto a plate and handed it to her. Alice resisted the impish urge to bare her teeth at him.

Hatter filled his own plate, then opened a concealed door between the stove and boiler to reveal a corner room with tall windows along both outer walls. Alice wasn't sure if it was intentional or not, but every one of them was splintered, and the morning light hit them and threw chaotic fragments of light all over the room.

The ceiling was low around the edges, but rose up to form a domed skylight in the center. Compared to the kitchen, the room was pristine, and the walls were painted in soft pastels and whites. Alice found it very comforting.

The crowning centerpiece was the dining table. It appeared to be made from opaque glass melted around steel ribbing, and was two levels high like a bunk bed. The first level held a little table for two and was accessible from both sides. The seats were cushioned with bright orange cloth. The upper level was much the same, only it was wider than the lower one and seated four.

Alice stared at it for a moment, then looked over at Hatter. He was brushing a few droplets of stove grease off his black velvet vest. "It stains," he said with a grimace. He gestured to the table. "It's your lucky day, Alice," he said, stretching the syllables out for dramatic effect. "Up or down?"

She hesitated, then said, "Up."

It took a little finesse to climb up without spilling her food or knocking her head on the ceiling, but she managed it and chose a seat. From here, she could see down through the windows at an angle all the way to the mid-levels of the city. Directly above them, a clear blue sky was visible through the skylight (which, she observed, needed cleaning).

They ate breakfast companionably. Hatter did most of the talking, much to Alice's relief. In spite of the comfort of her surroundings, she felt a little nervous being on the top level, with the city dropping below her. His steady chatter and expressive face kept her mind off of it.

After breakfast, he had her cleaning all the shop windows. The building was a lot bigger than it seemed, and she took note of several stairways and closed doors that seemed very fascinating. She would ask Hatter later if she could explore them. Or maybe she would just do it without telling him. She smiled a little at the thought.

The three of them had tea at noon. Or, to be more accurate, Hatter and Alice had straight tea, while Dormie helped himself to what Alice suspected was a variety of Relaxation (which was itself a byproduct of Peace). Hatter did not object, so apparently this was routine.

He showed her the Sensibility cabinet, which was built into the wall behind his desk. It was where he kept all the straight teas, along with many other odds and ends. After that, they went back down to the shop floor. Dormie got the tea stock ticker running, and within minutes he was slumped over the podium, snoring away. Hatter smirked and nudged Alice. "Look at that. He won't wake up until there's a crowd."

He organized the shelves behind the bar while she cleaned the room. Then he handed her a key to the bar counter and said, "You can keep this all for yourself. I had a spare made."

She accepted it and slipped it into the pocket of her dress. "Thanks." He smiled in acknowledgment and took a seat at a table near the bar. "I'll be here for the night, so don't worry if you have problems." He took his hat off, twirled it, and winked at her. "You'll do fine. Tea-head bites aren't poisonous."

She laughed aloud at that, prompting an irritated, snuffling snort from Dormie.

… … … … … … …. …. ….

The first of the customers arrived at about mid-afternoon, and soon the floor was filled with the pandemonium of competing bidders. Alice felt a little overwhelmed at first, but soon caught on to the rhythm. Hatter had marked the teas at current rates, so there would be no bartering tonight. She had mastered the account system by her tenth customer, and by the fifteenth was able to make eye contact with them.

It grew dark outside, and bright lights flickered on across the floor. Behind the counter, Alice had already turned the lamp on her countertop on, and it cast a soft green glow over the bar and nearby tables.

She looked over at Hatter's table less and less as the hours went by and she grew more confident. He was sitting there patiently the entire time, seemingly preoccupied with his hat, but in reality not missing a thing.

A little before midnight, he poked his head in the window. "Alice, do you mind if I run back to the office for a minute? Dormie left a chart in there."

Remembering that she was supposed to be mute, she only nodded. He made his way out while Dormie remained at the podium.

Two minutes passed, then five. Hatter still hadn't returned, and Alice began to feel an uncomfortable clenching in her stomach. Where was he?

A tea-head came back to the counter to buy more, and Alice was instantly aware of his unnaturally pale skin and glassy eyes. She didn't recall which teas he'd purchased, or how much, but clearly he'd had more than enough to strip him of his reason.

Finally, he said, "More."

She shrugged, as if to say, _More of what?_

He licked his lips and shrugged back at her, his thin shoulders rising almost to his ears. "Doesn't matter, now does it? Something strong. Lots of it."

Ignoring the uneasy gnawing in her stomach, Alice reached for a bottle of Euphoria, hesitated, then picked up one of Excitement. She thought about giving him Passion, but she had a bad feeling about this guy. Passion was one of the most reactive emotions available, and she was not about to augment his already hyper-emotional state.

The man watched her write up the sale impatiently. His eyes were watering by this time, and he furiously rubbed his face, leaving red scratches from his fingernails.

Alice made a split-second decision.

She didn't know why, but she couldn't bring herself to give him a full dose Excitement when he was already so close to the edge. She kept a pitcher of water on the counter for her own use. While he was rubbing his face, she dipped an empty cup in the water and scooped it out half-full. Then she filled the other half with Excitement and swirled it until it was completely mixed.

When she looked up, the tea-head was staring at the cup in her hands. "What did you to it?" He hissed.

Alice froze, feeling the awful clench of Fear in her stomach. Fear was the one feeling she knew all too well. She always felt it right before the drainer or when a piece of her world intruded on her memory, and she felt it now. This crazed tea-head would not hesitate to kill her.

He moved without warning, lunging forward with a curse that sounded more like a snarl. He tried to scramble in the window after her, and let out a hoarse scream when he couldn't get through it. Alice jumped back, her own scream drowned out by his shrieking.

She pressed against the opposite wall, frantically weighing her options. Where was Hatter? Try the door! No, not the door! He would catch her.

Her eyes fell on the shotgun beneath the counter. She had no idea how to use it, but the tea-head didn't know that. He grabbed the cup of diluted tea and smashed it to the floor. Alice seized the moment and ducked beneath his arms, grabbed the gun and rolled out of his reach, narrowly missing the broken glass from the cup.

The man was still screaming, now with tears streaming down his face. Alice pointed the gun at him and backed up until she felt the solid counter door against her back. He yanked on the window doors and tried to wedge his shoulders through, and suddenly she couldn't hear him through the white noise in her head. For what seemed like eternity, she watched as he squeezed his head and upper torso through. Her arms quavered, but she kept the gun trained on him and yelled at him to back off.

Then, just as quickly as it had happened, it was over. Through the counter bars, she saw Hatter approach the man and yank him back onto the floor. The man stumbled to his feet, only to meet Hatter's swinging fist.

The noises of the room snapped back into focus. The tea-head had stopped screaming. Derisive shouts and laughter came from the tables. She felt her knees turn to jelly, and collapsed to the ground with the gun still clutched in her hands.

A twitching nose poked through the window, followed by Dormie's panicked face. He squeaked and quickly yanked his head back when he saw her trembling and clutching the gun. She heard Hatter's voice shouting something, followed by a sharp knock on the door. "Alice, open up!"

She groaned. Open the door? After all that? She wasn't sure she wanted to face him, not after giving him such a good reason to fire her. Her mind raced through the possibilities…he would turn her out onto the streets…he would sell her to a tea-runner…he would alert the Suits….

"Alice, the door!"

She pushed her fears back. He was not Ricky, he was Hatter. But why hadn't he come sooner? He said two minutes, not ten. She stood shakily to her feet, unlocked the door and pulled it open. Hatter stood on the other side, looking genuinely anxious. "Whoa, don't shoot!" He held his arms up instinctively.

"I don't know how," she murmured, and held the gun out to him.

He took it and stepped past her to put it back beneath the counter. "That'll change, rest assured." He turned, and saw that she had flinched away from him. "I'm really, _really_ sorry I was late, Alice." He set a hand carefully on her shoulder. "Are you all right?"

She nodded, unsure of what to say. But she did not push his arm away.

He was staring at her face. "Alice, you're crying. Are you all right?"

Surprised, she touched her cheeks and felt wetness. She _was_ crying. How strange. "He had too much tea already, and he wanted more. So I diluted it. I didn't think he would see…" Ashamed of her stupidity, she set her jaw and pushed away the thoughts of being on the streets tonight. Surely he wouldn't do that?

Hatter sighed and pushed his hat farther back on his head. "Some of them are bent on killing themselves. I wish I could say that guy was an exception to the rule, but he's not."

_Then why are you selling to them?_ Alice thought. _You and your damned money._ It didn't make sense for her to be angry at him. He wasn't acting like he was going to make her leave, after all. But she was angry, all the same. She pulled away from him again.

Hatter blinked and stepped back. "Alice, there was nothing else you could have done."

He could see that she was barely listening to him. "Look, I sent Dormie to get you something nice to eat," he said, trying to hide his frustration at her withdrawal. "You should take the rest of the night off, all right? We'll try again tomorrow."

She nodded, and he saw her eyes widen suddenly. She covered her mouth with her hands and murmured, "Nobody heard me yell, did they?"

"Nope. Couldn't hear a thing over the nutcase."

She had a point, though. Hatter figured that their conversation was shielded from most of the room by the framing around the door, but this was still a bit of a close call.

She lowered her hands and let out a long sigh. She looked so defenseless that he almost acted on the impulse to give her a comforting hug, but he wasn't sure that she would welcome that. Instead, he led her out from the counter, locked it behind them, and escorted her from the room. Jeers came from a few patrons when they saw her.

Hatter kept walking, but he made a mental note to come back and kick the culprits out once he got Alice settled. It wouldn't do to let them get away with it this time. If he did, the customers would be giving her trouble whenever the opportunity presented itself. Better to put a stop to it now.

Dormie had made soup from the leftover fried borogove, and it was so greasy that Hatter wasn't sure if Alice would want any (he knew he certainly wouldn't). But she accepted a bowl without a word and took it to her room.


	6. Chapter 6

Hello again, Dear Readers. Here is the sixth chapter at last! As always, much thanks to vanilla212 for generously donating her mad beta skills.

One more thing...perhaps it doesn't mean much to dedicate a fanfic chapter, but I would like to dedicate this one to the victims and families caught in the Newtown, CT massacre that took place earlier today. Please keep them in your thoughts, and in your prayers if you are the praying sort.

* * *

Hatter jabbed a finger at something behind Alice's shoulder. "Are you letting that evaporate on purpose?"

She cursed and spun around. A vial of blue tea was suspended over a burner on a wire support frame, and she grabbed it just as it started to boil over. The flame subsided as soon as it was gone, leaving tiny crystals of tea on the wires and an acrid odor in the air.

The contraption was something Hatter had devised. He said it was because he wanted to develop solid teas for business purposes, but a small part of Alice thought it was because of their conversation on chemicals and liquids last week. Alice was a very hands-on girl, and working in the tea shop had opened new horizons of curiosity for her. Fortunately for her, Hatter was more than happy to answer those questions.

He had presented this to her this yesterday night. Almost shyly, he showed her how the burner was triggered, and how its little heating system worked. Touched by his generosity, she hesitated, unsure of what to do. Then she gave him a quick hug, and he hugged her back and smiled. And it was a very sincere smile, with none of his usual bravado. The really astounding part came when he gave her a box of old teas to use. True, they weren't really worth anything anymore, but she couldn't believe that he would do this for her. What were his motives?

She thought of the smile.

Kindness? Really?

They had moved the contraption out to the tea shop counter so she could play with it when business was slow. So far, she'd only had the chance to use it twice. It had not gone very well. In fact, she was so frustrated she almost smashed it after the second time. Almost. What little crystals she'd produced crumbled into dust — a frustrating waste of effort.

Now, when she was making a third attempt, Hatter had the gall to come in and distract her. Damn him and his smiling. She smirked as she scraped the few surviving crystals from the rim of the vial into another empty one, unsurprised when they disintegrated.

She turned back to face him, self-consciously tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "What does _evaporate_ mean?"

"Oh, evaporate? Means you turn it from liquid to a vapor. Melt it into the air. _Poof_." He snapped his fingers for emphasis.

"Oh."

He laughed. "If Dormie's ever too sick to cook, we're eating out, all right?"

She scowled at him. "Just what are you saying?"

He sniffed the air and flashed her a winsome grin. "I am saying…that it's quite an accomplishment to make Dormie's burned borogove smell tasty."

She held the vial up threateningly. "Funny, because it'll also be quite an accomplishment for you to dodge this."

He tipped his hat and backed away. "Right, I know when I've overstayed me welcome. I'll be making deliveries. If I'm not back before closing tell Dormie."

She smiled a little as he left. How did he _do_ that? Why did she end up grinning like a Cheshire whenever he was around? Alice mentally chastised herself. How was she supposed to stay safe if she kept letting her guard down around him? He had been kind so far, but kindness was never freely given.

She snapped out of her reverie at the sound of the shop door opening. The sky outside the windows was fading from clouded gray to black as night fell, and a few tenacious rays of sunlight hit the empty shop floor. It would not stay empty for long now. All of the more reputable businesses were closing for the day, which meant that a small horde of shopkeepers and employees would be stopping by to indulge their tea habit. She touched the burner, and finding it cool, wrapped it carefully in a cloth and placed it under the counter. Then she opened the hinged doors of the counter window and waited.

A group of tea-heads shuffled in and seated themselves at a table. One of the women came over to the counter, and soon others were forming a line behind her. Alice nodded an acknowledgment to them, indicating that she would be ready in a minute. Bidding was only open on days when Hatter had a new shipment – usually every other day. Tonight, since there was no shipment, there would be more bartering than usual as customers tried to drive the rates down.

Bartering was quite the experience, especially when one party was pretending to be a mute and the other was desperate. Hatter had been right, though — the customers were usually too impatient for their tea to quibble over price for very long. If they were being stubborn, she stretched out the process until their craving overwhelmed their stinginess. This made the others in line even more desperate, of course, but she felt very little pity for them.

There had been no more incidents since her first night on the floor, much to her relief and Hatter's surprise. He had taken her to the basement of the building the next day and shown her how to use the gun. She couldn't say she liked it very much, but she wasn't willing to face a second run-in without some kind of defense. Hatter had been worried at first, but by the end of that week he was leaving her and Dormie to run the floor while he worked in his office and checked on them only occasionally. It was already the start of her third week. She could do this.

Alice gave her sleeve a perfunctory glance to make sure her Glow was well hidden, then gestured for the first customer.

The lady was tall and well-dressed, with dramatic makeup that didn't quite conceal the dark circles beneath her eyes. Her expression was hollow as she asked for a cold cup of Desire in a monotone voice. Alice help up a few fingers to indicate the price (she was getting very good with numbers) and prepared the tea. She handed the cup to the lady and watched as she made her way back to one of the tables, sitting down opposite a rich-looking gentleman who reached across and squeezed her hand.

Alice found herself wondering about them. Not pitying or anything, she reminded herself, just curious. _Vulcans_.

A hand waving in front of her face brought her attention back the next person in line, a sweaty dock worker. Alice bit back a sharp retort to his unspoken complaints. She refused to barter with him, and, not the least plagued by conscious, charged him more than the tea was worth. Finally, he relented and stalked to a corner table with his drink, cursing under his breath.

They continued, one after another. Most of them she had seen before, but there were a few new faces in the noisy crowd. There were housewives, alone and out of their element, and a wiry man that Alice immediately pegged as a professional thief. Hatter had told her what to look for, so she knew the bracelet he was wearing meant that he worked for one of the gangs. She was cautious when she bartered with the man, and counted the money twice when he paid her. Next up was a group of street children, who had obviously pooled the little money they had to buy a vial of Joy. She felt a slight pang of guilt as they scurried out with it.

Next in line was young man, who politely cleared his throat. He was tall and well-groomed, dressed in a neatly-pressed dark suit. He smiled at her, and as Alice met his eyes she felt her stomach curl in a peculiar way that was not entirely unpleasant.

"Could I have a bit of Peace, please?" His voice was cultured and pleasant.

She looked away and found a jar of Peace. She picked up the smallest cup size and gestured to it. He shook his head. "Just a bit more than that."

She used the next size up. She could feel him watching her, and her hands trembled a little as she poured the tea. Suddenly feeling shy, she wrote down the price and slid the paper across the counter to him. He paid her, and she gave him his tea before retreating to record the sale.

When she looked up, he had moved to an unoccupied corner table.

As soon as the line emptied he was back, still sipping the tea. He smiled again, warmly. "Can you speak at all?"

She shrugged helplessly. She wanted to speak. Oh yes, she did. But Hatter's warning stayed clear in her mind. None of the tea-heads could know that she was from the other side, not even – she swallowed – not even extremely attractive ones.

"What's your name?" The man asked.

She hesitated, then grabbed a scrap of paper and wrote, _Alice_. He read it and met her eyes again. "That's a beautiful name. It suits you perfectly."

She blushed and snatched the paper back from him.

Just then, another customer approached the counter for more tea. Alice poured it to his specifications and finished the transaction. Jack stayed nearby, taking in the room.

As soon as she was free he handed her his empty glass, his face lit with the tea-induced serenity. She avoided his gaze again as his fingers brushed hers. "This is really excellent tea," he murmured. "I'll see you soon. Take care, Alice."

He made his way through the shop, which by now was filled to capacity. Alice released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Damn. Who was that?

* * *

He was back again the next evening, only later.

Alice hadn't said a word to Hatter about him. The idea of being a mystery to someone that mysterious was something she wanted to keep to herself. She thought about him the entire day, and even set aside a special cup from the mismatched collection for him. It was made from dark green crystal that caught the light and reflected it back on her hands. She thought it fit him well.

She was so preoccupied when the evening crowd came in that she nearly served a customer Elation instead of the Joy he'd ordered. The differences between the two were subtle, but important all the same. Chiding herself for woolgathering on the job, she realized she was glad that Hatter was not on the floor tonight. What would he think of her being this flustered? Of the stranger? Much to her chagrin, she found herself mentally comparing them.

Hatter was a showman, while this man seemed honest. Hatter's face was scruffy when he forgot to shave, and he wore makeup to make himself seem more eccentric. And his hat, which she had been a little fond of, suddenly seemed very childish. The stranger's face was clean and strong, and his eyes were clear. He was obviously not stuck on tea, even if he drank it. Why did he drink Peace, she wondered, and was there a chance that he would tell her about it sometime?

She swallowed and chided herself again. How was she supposed to know whether he was honest or just another variety of showman? She was hardly aware enough to read her own emotions and motivations, much less those of a total stranger. And then there was the nagging fact that if he knew she was an oyster, everything would change. But was it really that dangerous?

She decided that there was no harm in a little conversation, especially one as one-sided at theirs happened to be. She would offer a friendly smile and let him talk to her if he came again, nothing more.

* * *

Alice sighed with relief as the last tea-head in line left. Her breath blew several loose strands of hair away from her face, and she leisurely loosened the rest of it and retied her pony tail.

"Hello." The quiet accented voice made her heart jump into her throat. The stranger was back. She almost said "hello" back, but caught herself just in time, biting her lip. It was just as well, since she didn't think she could find her voice past the roaring in her ears.

Glancing around for something to do, she grabbed the green cup and held it out to him. He looked at it and raised an eyebrow. "And what is this for, Alice?"

She grabbed a scrap of paper to scribble on. _It's for you to use._

She felt a sudden stab of embarrassment. Undoubtedly, half the words were spelled wrong. She made a mental note to get Hatter to teach her better spelling.

He read it and smiled. "For me?" He took the cup from her and looked it over. "Why did you choose this one?"

Alice shrugged, and wrote, _It reminds me of you._ Then she added, _What's your name?_

He chuckled. "You're comparing me to a cup? I'm not sure if I should take that as a compliment or not." Alice felt a little embarrassed, and the stranger must have seen that. He looked at the cup again and said, "I understand what you're saying." His eyes twinkled a little. "Are you upset with me?"

She folded her arms in mock anger and nodded.

The stranger put a hand to his heart. "Ah, I am so sorry to have offended you, Lady Alice. Tell me, is there a way for me to earn your forgiveness?"

She smirked and tapped the paper.

"My name? Very well. My name is Jack."

Feeling triumphant, she scribbled, _Jack who?_

He raised an eyebrow. "_Alice_ who?"

Alice considered this. She wanted to tell him, but did not know if it was safe. She had never heard of anyone with the name _Hamilton_ in Wonderland. It was possible that he would know just from that that she was an other-sider. She wondered what he would do if he knew, and whether he would still be as kind as he was now.

A scuttling sound near her arm brought her attention to the counter top. A large cockroach was making its way across. _Cocky thing_, she thought, and, not at all intimidated by it, she looked around for something she could use to kill it.

"What is it, Alice?" Jack put his face to the bars to see what she was looking at. She pointed the invader out to him, and was surprised to see his face turn gray. He looked at her and smiled weakly. "I'm afraid that you are braver than I am. I am not very fond of bugs."

Well, that did it. Giving in to a sudden surge of impudence, Alice used a piece of paper to redirect the cockroach's scurrying course towards Jack. He yelped and jumped back so quickly that he bumped his head on the upper counter.

Alice could not help laughing at the dazed look on his face. He rubbed the top of his head and stared at her, then he began chuckling too. His laugh was rich and deep, and Alice felt her knees go weak.

He met her eyes, and they both stopped laughing quite suddenly. Jack leaned in close to the bars that separated them. "You realize, Alice, that if you can laugh aloud, you should also be able to speak?" he observed quietly.

Alice had no idea how to answer that.

Instead, she scanned the room, looking anywhere but at him.

She did a double-take. Hatter was standing a mere few paces away, arms akimbo, watching expressionlessly. Alice smiled at him, and for the second time that night almost forgot her no speaking rule. He quirked a tiny smile back at her, and she felt…was that guilt? Why?

Jack turned to see what she looking at. His eyes narrowed slightly, but he stepped forward with his hand extended. "You must be the Mad Hatter."

Hatter took the proffered hand and gave it a single, abrupt shake. "What are you doing in my shop?" His tone was icy, icier than Alice had ever heard it. She watched with concern. What was wrong with Hatter? And what was this about madness?

Jack did not back down. "I came to sample your product." Was he talking about the tea, Alice wondered? Because he had not had any this evening.

Hatter stepped around him and went to stand by the counter, briefly meeting Alice's eyes as he did. "And what do you think?"

Jack smiled slightly. "I find it to my liking."

He nodded to Hatter and gave Alice a parting smile — a very pleasant smile, as she could not help but notice. Then he retrieved a derby hat and a long peacoat from the rack and left. Alice watched him go, her curiosity burning stronger than ever as the door slammed behind him.

Hatter turned to face Alice and studied her face. "You're blushing."

She blushed harder and began furiously polishing an empty tea cup – Jack's tea cup. "Am not."

"Yes, you are." He looked around the room, and she could see him taking a mental tally of the customers. "Right, I think I'll take the night shift from here on out."

"What?" She sputtered, nearly dropping the cup.

He nodded at the counter door. "Go on out, Alice. I'll take over."

She set the cup down so forcibly it nearly broke. "You're scared, aren't you? You're scared that I'll sell out on you."  
He glanced around the room again. "Cut it out. They'll see you talking. We can go over this later, yeah?"

"No. You keep whining about me trusting you, but what about you?" She had a good mind to reach through the window and slap him.

"Alice, would you just …" He sighed and threw up his hands. "All right. Fine. I'll get Dormie to take the counter tonight."

He yanked his hat off his head and crushed the brim between his fingertips as he crossed the room. He looked relaxed, and Alice wasn't sure if he was really upset or if she was just imagining it.

He came back a minute later and unlocked the counter door, allowing Dormie inside. He held the door open until Alice reluctantly exited, then threw a warning glance at a tea-head that tried to sneak a look inside.

They went back to his office.

"Have you eaten yet?" He asked.

"Yes."

He put his favorite tea kettle on and flopped down into his desk chair, spinning it a few times like he always did. Alice reached into the Sensibility cabinet and plunged about for some tea. She came out with some that smelled like vanilla, which at the moment sounded like just the thing. She tossed two tea bags on his desk (being tea bags, they didn't sound nearly as adamant as she wanted them to). Then she stood with her arms crossed and stared at him. He brought the chair to a stop and waited for her to speak.

"Is there a good reason for you to take me off the night shift? Because I think you're being unfair and stupid."

His eyebrows shot up at that. "Stupid? Is it stupid to make sure you're safe?" He leaned forward. "You have no idea who you were talking to, do you?"

"Jack. My new friend. A nice guy." She was blushing just saying it. _Watch it, Alice._

"Right, a nice guy. And the prince of Wonderland.

Alice was positive she felt her jaw dropping. "What?"

Hatter smirked. "Yeah, I didn't think he'd mention that."

"What is he doing in your tea shop?"

Hatter shrugged. "No idea. Maybe he's up to something, or maybe he's just looking for better tea." _Not likely, since it all comes from the casino anyway._

Alice was having the same thought. "But he has access to the best tea!"

"Yeah. It smells fishy to me, which is why I'm taking you off the night shift."

Her indignation returned at that. Once again, and in spite of his own irritation, Hatter couldn't believe how appealing she looked when she was angry — not that he was ever, _ever_ going to tell her that. It was something about the combination of flashing eyes and flushed cheeks, he decided. Maybe it was because Wonderlanders so rarely acted out like she did. He idly wondered if all oysters were this charming when they got uffish, or if it was just her.

"Look," she said through clenched teeth. "If you think you have a right to be suspicious just because he's talking to me…if you think I'm just gonna let you order me around…you're wrong. Maybe he's trying to be somebody else for a while, have you thought of that? Maybe he just needed a normal conversation."

Hatter's eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly. "Did you talk to him?"

"No, I never spoke. But that doesn't mean you aren't being ridiculous."

The tea kettle whistled, and Hatter took a deep breath as he got to his feet. Alice followed him around the desk, and he had a feeling that she wanted to hit him. Well, she wasn't the only one who felt like hitting something.

"Just because you're my employer doesn't mean you get to decide everything I do and everyone I talk to," she challenged.

That did it. He spun on his heel to face her. "Look, Alice, think it through. What's a guy like Jack Heart doing to talking to you? He's making you a target, that's what!"

She started to storm away, but he grabbed her shoulder and turned her around to face him, holding her in place. "I didn't get you away from Ricky and give you a job so you could get swindled by the first smooth-talker that comes along. I know a rat when I see one, all right?" Seeing her flinch at his raised voice, he took another breath and pulled his hand back. "I've been in the business a while. I know."

She was staring at him, and he could not read the expression in those distractingly blue eyes of hers. "What are you doing, Hatter?"

"I just told you, didn't I?"

"I mean your hand."

He looked down.

The polished steel of his desk was crumpled like a piece of paper where his right hand gripped it. He slowly released his grip, revealing even more damage. He watched her warily, unsure of what was going through that head of hers. Alice took in the damaged desk with a kind of fascination. Seeing her tense as if to run, he held both hands up where she could see them. "It's all right Alice. It's just me exceptionally strong grip, that's all."

She was still staring at him.

"Which tea cup d'you fancy tonight Alice?" He injected a little more cheerfulness into his tone.

"You're lying to me." She stammered a little.

"I'm not lying, Alice."He prepared the tea bags and added hot water to the cups.

She folded her arms and clenched her fingers around her elbows. "Your accent…it gets thicker when you're trying to fool someone."

It did? Hatter filed that information away for future reference. "_Lying_ isn't quite the right word for it," he hedged.

"Then what is?"

"Erhm, right. Look, I'm not lying, _per se,_ it's just a bit of a long story. I'll tell you another time, yeah?" He sipped from one of the tea cups and offered the other one to her.

Alice pushed it away. "Not until you tell me. I've heard you called Sledgehammer in the shop. Why? And why did Jack call you the Mad Hatter?" She demanded. He voice was shaking a little, and Hatter had to give her credit for her determination, especially considering how much his accidental desk sabotage had frightened her.

He took a long sip of his tea, giving himself time to craft an answer. Finally, he set the cup down and said, "Let's be fair about this. You don't want me dictating everything you do just because you're me employee, right? Well then, as an employee, you'll not get to know everything about me."

He saw her angry scowl clear as day, and with it something akin to horror. Alice did not meet his eyes again. Instead, she kept her gaze on the floor as she silently took her cup of tea and let. There was no g'night, no smile, no planning for the next day. She looked like a beaten dog. Hatter sighed and opened his ledger, letting the rest of his tea get cold.

She was talking to Jack Heart, and she'd not even stay in the room with him. It wasn't that surprising, now that he gave it some thought. Sure, he had saved her, but that was no reason for her to feel obligated to him more than she already was, did it? That was no reason for her to like him. He felt a little stab of envy at Jack's smooth manners and pleasant voice. Of course Alice would be drawn to that!

He ended that train of thought abruptly. He was _not_ jealous, he was just looking out for her welfare because she wasn't doing a very good job of it on her own.

He was justified, he knew, regardless of whether or not she liked it. She made all the noise about trust, but he had no intention of trusting her until he knew what she was made of. He didn't think she would intentionally sell him out, but it was common knowledge that oysters were gullible. And his oyster — his _Alice_ — was talking to Jack Heart.


	7. Chapter 7

Hello Dear Readers. I think I owe you all a major apology for my absence. Believe you me, it wasn't planned. Thanks to life being the dastardly thing it is, nearly every area of mine blew up like so many cheap fireworks. In other words, things were very crazy in very many ways, some of them good, and some of them decidedly not good. Things are back on an even keel now, and I'm sane enough to start writing again (which is good, because I missed this story). Oh, and guess who now has a hard-earned college degree? Yep. This lady.

Thank you so much to all of you who are still here. :) Just so you are aware, I will not be giving up on this story, so even if there is another horrendous gap in updates, don't worry…there will be another one eventually. As always, comments, criticisms, ideas, and free chocolate are all welcomed with open arms.

On with the show.

* * *

Hatter was in a bit of a fix when it came to Alice. Even though an entire two days had passed since the Jack Heart incident, she was still upset. He couldn't let the situation go on — it was bad for business, bad for her health, bad for his (mental) health, and just...well, bad.

He had tried acting the way he usually did around her – teasing tempered with plenty of kindness – but she refused to let the incident be. Or rather, she refused to even bring it up with him. So there it sat, right in the center of her stony silence.

Alice was clearly bothered that he was keeping secrets, but he remained clueless as to why. Hadn't he told her that his refusal had nothing to do with her? All right, maybe it did have something to do with her, but only because he was looking out for her safety along with his own. His legal tea business was only moderately dangerous, but his side-dealing could be downright deadly if he wasn't careful. Perhaps oysters really were as irrational as rumor claimed.

Regardless of her questionable reasoning skills, Hatter found that he missed her curiosity and her smiles. It was true that the bravery it took for her to give him the silent treatment was admirable (in a misplaced sort of way), but he was sick of the tension it caused. But what to do about it? That was the puzzler. What would an oyster woman like? Had she been a Wonderlander, a vial of some sweet-smelling tea or other would do the trick. The women he had known over the years were invariably fond of sweet fragrances, but there was no way he was going to encourage Alice to drink tea. He thought she might enjoy something colorful, but the only things that came to mind were clothes and blown glass. Both seemed a little underwhelming to him.

He did a little bit of discreet asking around on his next trip through the city. His question raised some curious eyebrows, but nothing a meaningful look on his part couldn't quell. _Oyster men use flowers to catch their ladies_, one person said. _And diamonds, they all love those._

Hatter decided to try the flowers. There was no sense in buying pretty rocks when they weren't strictly needed. Now it was a question of how to track down said flowers and present them to Alice without her suspecting his intentions. The city wasn't exactly graced with blossoms on every terrace, and the plants that did grow were not that appealing.

He thought about this off-and-on for an entire evening as he went over his books, throwing out a grand total of six ideas before hitting on the solution. While he and Alice were closing up the trading floor for the night, he saw something that had escaped his notice before: the small plants and flowers that grew in the dirt aisles were wilted. A few were completely dead.

No surprises there, considering that he'd never really thought about the plants before, much less watered or tended them. He didn't see much point in beautifying the trading floor, but it made an excellent pretext for bringing in some nice flowers for Alice.

One of his clients knew a merchant who knew a vegetable farmer whose wife dabbled in botany. Their farm was near the city and reportedly had hothouses on the property. Hatter pulled a few strings the next morning and arranged to buy a boatload of potted flowers, which arrived late that night just after the shop had closed. As soon as he got word that the shipment was in, he took Dormie with him down to the uppermost canal to collect his plants. A quick assessment showed that the farmer's wife had quite a green thumb — all twelve pots were overflowing with lush green leaves and colorful blossoms. Hatter couldn't help feeling a bit pleased with himself for pulling this off in a single day. But then, he wasn't in business for nothing, now was he? The talents and contacts required were pretty handy for other things, too.

Now to see if Alice liked them enough to get Jack Heart out of her head.

He hadn't counted on the pots being quite so large. Pots and ladders did not mix well, and getting them up to the shop was a nip and tuck process that took several hours. By the last run down to the boat, Hatter was contending with sore arms and an aching back, not to mention the overwhelming temptation to push Dormie off a ledge. The little man had somehow managed to make himself incredibly unhelpful at every thing he attempted. Sometimes Hatter wondered why he still kept him in his employ, or even why he had hired him in the first place.

Seeing Alice's face made it all worthwhile, though. She came out to the trading floor as they were bringing the last two pots in.

"I heard noise. What's going on?" Her eyes fell on the pot nearest the door. "Oh." After staring at the flowers in surprise for a moment, she began to smile. It was the brightest smile Hatter had ever seen from her, and he couldn't help but grin himself. Those blue eyes were looking quite brilliant.

She hesitantly stepped forward and ran her fingertips over the flowers. "They're so nice!" She exclaimed breathlessly. He wished he were more of one for flowers, so he could tell her their names.

He watched her out of the corner of his eye while he pretended to dust off his hat. Who would have guessed that flowers would have such a potent effect on oysters? Did the bright colors flip some switches in those heads of theirs? Oh, of course. Alice had probably never seen healthy, fresh flowers before, growing up as she did in the bowels of the city. No wonder, then.

Suddenly, her back went straight, and she sent a small glare his way. "And what are these for?"

So she was not completely unaware of her world's traditions. Infinitely preferring her smile over her suspicion, he decided not to tell her that they were a shameless bribe. He gestured to the aisles. "To freshen things up a bit."

She followed his gesture and nodded. "Those _are_ looking pretty shabby. Do you know anything about gardening?"

He grinned cheekily. "Nope. Don't even know what they're called. You, Dormie? Oi, Dormie! What do you think you're doing?"

Dormie had sidled over to the tea counter and was attempting to circumvent the locked door. He looked up guiltily. "Nuthin', Hatter."

"Yeah? Well, stay out of _nuthin'_, whatever it is."

The little man scuttled back, scowling irritably in Hatter's general direction.

"Dormie, what you do know about gardening?" Alice asked.

Dormie looked up, as if slightly affronted that an oyster was speaking to _him_. Not that he had the courage to argue the point with her. He shrugged. "Nuthin'."

Alice regarded the two of them dubiously. "Nothing at all, between the two of you?"

"Do I look like the gardening sort? Here, in the middle of the city?" Hatter asked, keeping his tone cheerful so she would know he wasn't really reprimanding her. "I know the pretty parts stay above ground and the tangled parts don't. That's it."

Alice fingered a flower again, and appeared to be enjoying its softness. "Well, I guess we can learn."

Hatter shrugged. "Dormie, are there any shovels around?"

Dormie didn't bother with a response, but shuffled off into the back hallway to look.

Hatter busied himself with inspecting the dead flowers along the tables. He was not relishing the idea of getting dirt on his suit jacket. Perhaps he could pop back to his room and change into something better fit for gardening. He did want to see more of Alice's reaction, though.

He glanced back at her.

She had placed a hand on the stem on one of the plants, and was running a finger through the soil in the pot with the other. Her hair hung loosely in her face, and she pushed it back with her dirt-encrusted fingers, unaware that pieces of it were catching in the strands.

Hatter swallowed the sudden, unwelcome lump in his throat. Unable to resist, he stepped over and brushed the dirt from the silky strands. Then, as she stared at him in surprise, he impulsively plucked a bright blue flower from the pot. When he gently tucked the flower behind her ear, her expression changed from confusion to pure astonishment. Her eyes were bright as she reached up to touch it, and Hatter could have sworn he saw the beginnings of tears.

Why was she crying? It wasn't anger — he had seen enough of that from her to rule it out. She was sad, perhaps. Or, just maybe, there was something positive to it.

He swallowed the pesky lump again. "Right, let's see about this, shall we?"

Throwing his shirt's fortune to the wind (or dirt, as the case happened to be), he bent over one of the dead plants, grasped the stalk, and pulled. It came up easily enough, and he left it on the ground and moved to the next one. Alice stared at him as he worked, until he finally looked up and said, "Have you taken root there, Alice?" She shook her head, and started pulling up plants on the other side of the aisle.

They worked in silence for several minutes, until Alice broke it. "Hatter?"

"Yeah?" He resisted the urge to look up from the mass of roots he was tugging on. Had it worked? Did flowers really work that well?

"Why did Jack call you Mad?"

Oh, for crying out loud….

She had stopped pulling plants and had fixed him with that stare again. "I won't stop asking until you tell me."

He suppressed a grimace. "I thought we'd talked about this already, and as I recall, we agreed that it's me own business."

"I know, but I'd still like you to tell me." Her voice had a ring of false confidence to it. He looked over at her. She was biting her lip, and one hand was tightly clenched.

Oh. Of course. She thought she might not be safe around him.

It was so obvious that he almost laughed aloud. And he had taken so much trouble with the flowers! It was just as well that she liked them.

He looked down at the withered plant in his hands and idly tore off a few leaves, considering. How much could he really tell her? Definitely not much at this point, in case pretty-boy Jack showed up again. On the other hand, keeping her in the dark could give the prince just as much of a weapon. Possibly a more dangerous one. Hatter did not know how much Jack knew about his past, but if he knew enough he could use that knowledge to manipulate Alice against him very easily.

He made a decision, and looked back up at her. "I used to work for the Hearts in me younger days enforcing tea regulations, and it earned me a bit of a reputation." Then he added as an afterthought, "Jack was a whiny little whelp back then."

Her eyes narrowed as she deliberately ignored his last comment. "What about your hand?"

"What about it?"

"You know what I mean. The table…you crushed it."

How to explain that? He frowned and looked at the ceiling for inspiration, noting as he did the extensive water damage on the pipes. This place really was falling apart. "That," he said slowly, unsure of exactly how to phrase it, "was an experiment, courtesy of the Queen. It's just me right arm. I volunteered for it." _So to speak._

"Is that why they call you Sledgehammer?"

"Yeah." _More or less. _"Are you finished asking questions?" He hated to get peevish so soon after getting her to speak to him again, but he wasn't about to divulge more at this point.

"Yes…well, no. One more?"

He sighed patiently and tossed another plant away. "Sure."

"Why don't you like Jack?"

Oh, where to start? "It's not a matter of not liking him, it's a matter of not _trusting_ him." _Not like_ was too kind a term for his sentiments toward Jack Heart.

"But you don't like him either, and I don't understand why."

Hatter chewed on that. Why _did_ he dislike Jack? He'd never cared either way in the old days. Of course, back then Jack had been too young to be a threat to his livelihood or his personal business — or to naive oysters who couldn't see past his blinding charm.

He looked up at Alice. The glint of tears was still there, hidden behind the strained determination on her face. Now was not the time for this. "It's just distrust, Alice. I'm sure he's a nice guy when he doesn't have an agenda." The lie tasted a little more like acid than lies usually did, but he ignored it. Sometimes it was better to paint the roses red (as the old saying went) than to tell the truth and stir up more conflict.

"Why are you so sure he has an agenda?" She asked, sounding a little defensive. "Maybe he just comes here because he's bored. Maybe he's lonely."

"That's beside the point. He's a member of the ruling family, and I'm breaking one of their laws just by having you here. Better to be safe than lose our heads, yeah?" It wasn't the whole truth, or even close to it, but he hoped it would be enough. He went back to pulling up plants. To his relief, Alice followed his example and dropped the subject.

Dormie came back with a well-worn, oversized shovel just before they finished. Hatter decided not to ask where he had been, instead directing him to dig out holes for the plants, while he began moving pots. Alice stood off to the side and watched them both. Hatter was soon aware that she was scrutinizing him again, though for what he couldn't say.

Once, he looked up and made eye contact. Instead of looking away, she met his gaze and even offered a little half-smile. He thought the sadness might still be there, but now at least she wasn't angry or afraid. He made a mental note: flowers were the pigeon's roost when it came to oysters.


End file.
